It’s snowing outside, thick fluffy flakes from the sky only visible in the cone of streetlamps. I close my phone and hang up the call. They would be arriving soon, perhaps a bit delayed by the weather. I had only landed at the airport a few moments ago. It’s almost Christmas, and the atmosphere is ripe with anticipation. The airport is packed, Silver Bells plays faintly, barely audible over the hum of activity. I step onto the tram to go to the other side of the airport towards the pickup area to retrieve my suitcase and wait for them to arrive. I could see the snow outside like TV static as we sped through the dark. I think about seeing family, about the warm, comfortable feeling of a home on Christmas; when the ground was covered in snow, and the sky was dark, but the inside of the house was content and bright. The tram stops, and I get off to collect my suitcase. I take a seat next to a window, I can feel the cold radiate from it and see my reflection fog in my breath. The music has switched to a jazz rendition of Christmastime is Here. They‘ll be here soon, I feel my eyelids start to close, I think I’ll just sleep for a few minutes.